Burn the Memory
by JustSeekingGreaterThings
Summary: No matter what Sammy and Bobby thought, Dean wasn't in love with Castiel. He wouldn't be. He couldn't let himself be. God, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he loved Castiel, not with the last words he said to him. He didn't even say "I love you" Destiel stated but not really. rated for language


"Dean, you have to slow down," the elder Winchester scoffed in response and poured himself another glass of whisky. Being a hunter didn't bring many good days, but anyone would be crazy to try and tell him that this week wasn't the worst. Sam's wall had collapsed, leaving him with pain and flashbacks from his year in the cage and getting harassed by Lucifer. Sam was the stronger of the two- Dean knew that- but the dark blonde hunter never thought he'd seen anyone look as broken as his little brother does right now.

Except the last time he saw Cas.

Dean then took another long gulp of his drink, willing to burn the memory from his head.

"Son, you need to talk about this."

"About what Bobby?" scoffing as he made a circular motion, twirling the drink in his hand, "There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine."

"Oh yes, you're the picture of stability. I mean you've only lost one of the best friends you've ever had, and your brother's off h-"

"I can handle Sam, we've dealt with worse before and he can get through this," he paused to take another drink, "and I don't care about what happened to Cas. The idiot got what was coming for him. It's not like this is the first time we lost a good friend, this constantly happens to us," and goddammit, Bobby was giving him the eyes. The fucking eyes he always had when Dean and Castiel held a gaze a little too long, as though they were stubborn morons refusing to admit they're in love with the other. But Dean doesn't do boys (not since his dad caught him with Nick in '95) and Cas is a fucking angel, he doesn't fall in love (or at least that's what Dean tells himself so he doesn't risk heart break to begin with) and even so, he's dead… nothing about that even matters now. Bobby probably thought Dean couldn't see the look, but he always did, and he doesn't need it now, especially not with the added sorrow and pity.

"Alright," his mentor sighed with defeat, "I'm going to start making calls; see if anyone's even heard of these Leviathans and see if they have plans. Just… take care of yourself, Dean."

Dean was left to his own thoughts then, gazing mindlessly into his glass.

He didn't need to talk about Cas; the angel was a stupid child. He wasn't even that upset for fuck's sake; it wasn't like he was a chick. He could handle this.

Sure, he's probably drunk more this past week than he did the first four nights with Lisa and Ben. Yeah, every night he went to bed, he'd see nothing but Cas' death: his face covered with orifices, and his eyes torn apart. Dean's on the verge of giving up on sleeping altogether, scared to be haunted by his best friend's death. Best friend. No term is less appropriate at this point; not after Cas' betrayal with Crowley. He wasn't even sure he could call his and Castiel's previous relationship a friendship; they were more like a married couple.

Dean chugged the rest of his drink to drown out the thought.

He wasn't in love with the stupid angel, not Dean Winchester, heterosexual extraordinaire- minus eleventh grade… and the occasional looker he saved on hunts- okay so maybe he's not _completely _straight. But there was no way he was in love with Castiel. It didn't matter that every time Dean saw him, his stomach would float in a way the hunter never experienced with anyone, not even Lisa. He didn't care about the way he'd look into Cas' blue eyes- probably the only part of Cas that's one hundred percent him, they were so much more intense than Jimmy Novack's- and would feel like the angel could read into Dean's soul through his green ones without him caring. It didn't matter that they had their "profound bond" and Dean felt like shoving Meg through a wall when she stuck her disgusting tongue down his- _the_ angel's throat. He didn't give a fuck that when everything got too overwhelming, he'd bury his head in Cas' coat, using it like a shield against the external problems. No matter what Sammy and Bobby thought, Dean wasn't in love with Castiel. He wouldn't be. He couldn't let himself be. God, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he loved Castiel, not with the last words he said to him.

Pouring another glass, memories were flooding into Dean's head of the last time he saw the fallen angel. He remembered looking at Cas with contempt as he refused to give up the souls he took from Purgatory, even though they were burning his vessel from the inside out. He remembered how he and Sam and Bobby actually captured Death to kill Cas. With shame filling his system, Dean saw the broken look in Cas' eyes in reaction to his abandonment. Dean's mind flashed back to their conversation, after Sam left due to his visions of hell. He winced internally as he remembered himself saying he couldn't forgive Cas for working with Crowley, even though the angel was doing the only thing he knew how to do to redeem himself.

Dean buried his head in his hands, remembering the last look he shared with Castiel before sending the souls back to Purgatory. The broken "I'm sorry, Dean," that passed through Castiel's lips seemed so simple if you didn't look into his eyes. Those piercing blue eyes that in that moment conveyed more words and emotions than Dean could recognize. He felt the scar on his left arm- the one perfectly molded from Cas' hand from when the angel saved him from hell- burn as his mind connected to Cas'. Sorrow, apology, shame, and hurt passed through Dean's mind. He could feel his own heart breaking as Castiel's emotions flowed through his head, almost tearing up- _almost_- when he felt friendship and… fuck, he'd never admit he was tearing up here, love. He always told himself his repressed feelings for Cas were futile, the angel couldn't possible feel the same. But fucking hell, he actually did, and it felt like the end of the world, and when the door to Purgatory opened, the hunter held his breath watching his angel send each soul he took back into the void.

Everything seemed to be in place when the portal closed. Dean was finally capable of accepting his feelings. He looked back into Sam's eyes. Dean saw his little brother's eyes flicker with recognition and a smile spread across his face, because fuck, his older brother was finally going to kiss Castiel. Sam knew Dean would want privacy, but there was no way in hell he was going to miss this. Finally, Team Free Will was going to have a victory with no repercussions, no deaths, they'll actually have a fucking happy ending.

But then the Leviathans stayed.

Dean walked up to his angel, going to bring his hands around Cas' waist, when the angel pushed him back and winced in pain. No, this wasn't going to happen. Not now, not when things were so close to perfect.

Cas' cries and screams tore through Dean's heart. This was actually happening, he was watching Cas get killed inside his own body and there was nothing he'd be able to do to stop it. Dean felt Sam hold tight to his shoulder from behind, he didn't even realize that he was falling to the floor, losing his ability to stand and watch the horror in front of him.

And all of a sudden it was over and Dean was looking at the face that used to fill his dreams every night and saw nothing but a stranger. These creatures, fucking Leviathans, had cracked Jimmy's body apart, their presence too much for the vessel. It took everything for the hunter not to break down. He didn't even get to say "I love you."

Dean's vision ceased as he heard a shatter against the wall. The whisky bottle was smashed into pieces on the floor, and he'd usually take initiative and clean up but now he just couldn't. His body was folded into a ball as he convulsed and shook and sobs broke through his lips. For the first time, he let himself cry. About his dad, about Lisa and Ben, about Sam, about Cas. He had let himself feel for everything that had happened the past six years and screamed so loud he couldn't hear it anymore.

There was nothing, Dean felt nothing; every hunt just left him in pain and there was no use to it anymore. None. That was all he could think of, even as Sam brought his arms around his brother, speaking soothing words to try and bring Dean back to him. But that wasn't going to happen. Dean wouldn't be able to come back, he was gone the moment he lost his angel.


End file.
